


Devotions

by inelegantly (Lir)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Barbed Penis, Bestiality, Forced Exposure of Body, M/M, Objectification, Overstimulation, Sounding, Tentacles, indoctrination, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/pseuds/inelegantly
Summary: Theirs is the god of justice and order, a holy being who demands thoroughness from his followers. To disobey the rules of his worship would be the utmost of blasphemy. Tam knows this better than anyone; raised since childhood to be the god's bride, pleasing his deity is his greatest ambition. His deity chooses to test the limits of his devotion.





	Devotions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paleale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paleale/gifts).



The sun hangs low in the sky as Tam comes in from the garden. He has just completed his exercises; his muscles ache pleasantly from the stretches and his golden-brown skin radiates heat, warmed by the sun and exertion both. Next he will bathe, and pray, and perform his evening meditation before joining the devotees of the temple for their nightly meal. 

His home is well removed from the rest of the temple complex, hidden away in one corner of the grounds and surrounded by the lush, meticulously-cultivated foliage of the temple gardens. Richly-colored flowers perfume the air, their sweet scent wafting in through the open windows. The central room houses a deep, heated bathing pool, a perfect circle of blue water resting beneath a domed skylight rimmed with stained glass. All of Tam's surroundings are beautiful, from the intricate designs pieced together in jewel-toned glass, to the mosaics on the walls, to the subtle spiral of tiles lining the bottom of the pool. He lives in an earthly paradise, far removed from the rest of the world. 

Tam walks from the south entrance of the room, around the pool, up to the altar where a statue of his god stands behind a row of candles, a brass bowl, and a narrow vase filled with scented oil. He refills the bowl, adjusts the wick, and lights the oil. Sweat is drying on his skin and itching at the back of his neck but he cannot rush; there are rituals to attend to before a cleansing. 

Theirs is the god of justice and order, a holy being who demands thoroughness from his followers. To disobey the rules of his worship would be the utmost of blasphemy. 

Tam turns again toward the pool, eagerly shrugging his shirt off over his head and dropping it to the stone floor at his feet. His hands move to his waist, ready to shuck off his pants and dive into the cool water -- but before he gets that far, movement across the room catches his eye. Tam freezes. There is someone standing in the arched doorway, watching him with sharp, dark eyes. 

The devotees at the temple are all retired law practitioners, old men who did their god's work in courtrooms in their youth, upholding justice and maintaining order throughout the kingdom. Now they do his work in quieter settings, overseeing the temple, studying the law from books rather than in active practice. The man watching Tam is no devotee; he is too young, too well-muscled, too handsome. Tam has never seen anyone like him; Tam has never seen anyone besides the wizened devotees of the temple. His tongue sticks in his mouth. 

The man holds Tam's gaze, staring him down as he saunters into the room. His clothes are fine, sewn from vividly-dyed silks and brocade and covered in painstaking, hand-stitched embroidery. The cut of his pants highlights his narrow waist and strong thighs; his muscular, brown arms are left entirely bare. Tam swallows, wondering if he is a nobleman, some guest of the lawyer-priests. He wonders if the man is lost, though he doubts it. The way he sizes Tam up suggests that he has found exactly what he was looking for. 

"You're beautiful," the man says. 

Tam has kept himself well-groomed for his god, his body toned and leanly muscled, his face clear and unlined and painted about the eyes every morning, his dark hair falling in loose curls around full, soft cheeks. The lawyer-priests have praised him for his diligence, complimenting his devotion to his god. 

No one has ever complimented his body so directly before. Tam shudders and shuffles a few nervous steps back. The man's mouth curves into a slow, satisfied smile. 

"Do you deny it?" he asks. "In a garden full of luxuries and elegance, you alone are lovelier than every transient blossom, every masterful work of art." 

"I t-thank you for the compliment," Tam says, struggling to summon an appropriate response. 

"I would have you on this very floor, spread out for me like the richest of feasts." 

Tam is growing nervous. The man before him doesn't seem like someone used to being refused and Tam has not been trained in anything like self-defense. He has trained his body and mind to be nimble and elegant, has worked to become someone worthy of the blessings of their god. He is in his home; the temple is a safe place. He has never had a need for violence before. 

He wonders, distantly, whether he ought to run. 

"Please," he says, softly, placatingly. "I'm not a courtesan. I don't know anything about that, I j-just want to return to my bath and my prayers." 

Tam darts a glance back behind himself, eyeing the altar with its statue and its burning brazier. The man's gaze follows, looking over the display with an appraising eye. 

"Are you always so diligent in your worship?" 

The man's voice goes soft, knowing. Tam looks away, feeling the phantom brush of his own fingertips, kneeling before the altar and dipping them into the warm, ritual oil before reaching around behind himself. He cried as he worked himself open, soft pleas to his god, begging him to be gentle. The subtle contours of the statue rubbed against his insides as he pushed it into his body, working it into himself deeper and deeper. It wasn't enough. 

Tam's cheeks are hot and red, embarrassed even though there is no way this stranger could possibly know about his indiscretions. He may have been promised to a god but none of the lawyer-priests can tell him quite what that _means,_ none of them will explain anything beyond telling him he must remain pure and virginal, like a good bride. 

He awaits that holy wedding night with equal parts longing and fear, dreading the possibility of disappointment but desperately needing to _know,_ to have proof that their god is more than just a fairytale. 

Tam realizes, the man is still waiting for an answer. 

"I have been diligent all my life," he says. "I am promised to the god." 

"And you will wait for your deity, allowing no other to touch you before the god himself?" 

Tam nods, stubborn and sure. "I will wait." 

"Until the night of your godly wedding?" the man presses. 

"Of course," Tam agrees. "My wishes mean nothing before the will of my god. If it is his will that I remain untouched and pure, I will remain that way, for him." 

"What if I told you I did not wish to wait?" 

Tam's eyes narrow, eyebrows drawing together in confusion and puzzlement. They were talking about his god, not this man, and then-- 

The man seizes Tam about the waist, dragging him forward until he's up on his toes, balanced precariously as the man presses Tam's body to his own. He pets down Tam's back, squeezes his ass, breathes in deeply to get the scent of Tam's skin. He leans over Tam, bending him backwards as he licks up the side of Tam's throat, bites at the hinge of his jaw just beneath his ear. Tam can feel something poking at him through the front of the man's pants. 

"Let me have you, sweet pet," the man murmurs into his ear. "I have been waiting more than long enough." 

"H-How do I know you are who you say you are?" Tam whispers back. 

The man laughs, leaning away to offer Tam a dark, amused smile. "You're a plaything, child. It isn't your place to question or ask for proof; it is your duty only to believe. Spread yourself for me at the altar as you did before. I'd like to see what's mine displayed more personally." 

The man -- the god -- lets go of Tam and he stumbles back, staggering as his weight is returned to be borne by his own feet. He shuffles a few steps further from his god, and a few steps more, approaching the altar all while refusing to break eye contact with the being that would command him. 

"Ah," the god says, making a brief gesture with one hand. "First, be rid of those. Let me enjoy your body, pet." 

Tam stops, his shaking hands rising to pluck at the front of his pants. They are loose, light cotton, half-transparent and tied at the waist to keep them secured about his narrow hips. Tam picks nervously at the knot, loosens the ties, lets the material fall to pool about his feet. He fights the urge to cover himself with his hands. 

His god strides forward, light on his feet, every motion he makes confident and sure. His finger brushes along the length of Tam's soft cock, which jumps at the contact as if electrified. In the wake of his touch Tam begins to ache, a steady, building pounding in his groin. He's hard in seconds, so hard it hurts. A soft whine escapes his lips, rising up the back of his throat and not quite sticking there. 

"Kneel," the god says. "And show me." 

Tam manages to turn around only at the behest of a direct command, turns and kneels on the stone floor before the altar. The oil is still burning; Tam licks his fingers and snuffs out the wick. He can feel the god's eyes on him, like a crawling sensation, taking in the curve of his ass and the weight of his balls, just visible from the backside where they hang between his legs. 

The oil is hot when Tam dips his fingers in, almost too hot. He doesn't dare wait for it to cool. He slicks his hand and reaches back, feeling for his hole, pressing his first two fingers inside. He's done this so many, many times before; habit makes the actions easy, muscle memory guiding him to fuck himself open with smooth, deep motions, as deep as he can manage, until he's panting softly with the exertion. 

"Turn around," the god commands. 

Tam has to ease his fingers out to do it; before he's gotten more than halfway through the motion there is a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back. The candles are swiped aside, falling to the floor as the statue of the god topples over and rolls to join them. Tam's back is pressed to the emptied surface and held there. His god leans over him, larger than life, too strong to be refused. He is far, far bigger than the statue.

"Wait!" Tam gasps. "I never-- I just--" 

He's allowed no time to finish. The ache from his cock spreads lower, grows sharper, sharp and tight as the god fucks into him with one quick, abrupt motion. He gasps, voice gone high and reedy with the pain. All he can see is the god's eyes, twin dark pools threatening to swallow him into unfathomable depths. His hips are moving, swiftly, ceaselessly, thrusting into Tam again and again. The stone of the altar scrapes against Tam's back; his head bumps once against the wall with the force of the god's thrusts and he sees stars. 

"Please," he begs, the start of a soft, nonspecific litany. "Please, please, please--!" 

His god appears not to hear him. He does not relent; there is no respite. He pounds into Tam until the dull ache creeps deep inside his body, wrapping itself around Tam's guts and wrenching them apart. His cock aches with a sharper, sweeter pain, twitching and pulsing. He comes, abruptly, with a half-strangled cry. His god continues moving without reaction. 

He comes again and it hurts, hurts like pressing his thumb directly into the center of a bruise. He's sweaty, sticky with his own come, too weak to move. His asshole burns; his insides feel rubbed raw. 

He isn't hard any more. Even with whatever godly magic his deity has worked, he's gone soft from pain. Then a hand curls around him, jerking him insistently until he stiffens once more. He tries to squirm away, overwhelmed by sensation, desperate for respite but without anywhere to go. He cries as a third orgasm is wrung out of him, sobs even as he moans deliriously and begs his deity to be gentle with him. 

The pistoning of those godly hips never ceases. Tam's consciousness floats, increasingly untethered from his body, as if jostled loose by the force. Tam wonders whether a god is even capable of orgasm. 

-

Tam wakes up in his bed; sweaty, sticky, sore. The single, lightweight sheet it was made up with is kicked off down at his feet. He is briefly disoriented; his eyes dart about the room, skating over the mosaics on the walls, the open window, the chest of drawers containing all his clothes. He doesn't remember coming to bed. 

He begins to sit up, only to be arrested by a sharp, shooting pain, coursing down his spine and flaring out from his tailbone. He swallows a scream, falling back on the mattress and waiting for the pain to recede. Once it does, he is still left with a dull ache, deep inside his guts and radiating outward. He makes himself breathe, in and out and in until his heartbeat slows from a thunderous pounding down to a more ordinary rhythm. 

He wants to believe it was only a dream, his god taking him on the altar, a dream conjured by too many nights spent violating himself with the god's effigy. The ache in his backside leads him to believe it was something more than that, if perhaps something still less than unbiased reality. 

Slowly, carefully, Tam eases himself up from the bed. Every so often he moves wrong, sending a wave of pain coursing through his body. He feels as if he's been turned inside-out. He feels as if he's been set aflame, a blush still burning on his cheeks and heating the rest of his body, his asshole still burning where it's been stretched too wide. Tam limps weakly over to the doorway, holding onto the doorframe for a moment so he has some support. 

The mosaics on the walls depict sunrises and sunsets, show lions and wolves and eagles rearing up boldly from the colored stone, bracketing the scales of justice and standing in to represent honor, loyalty, and freedom. The symbols of their god are everywhere about the temple but they are most prominent in Tam's private space, a reminder that his god is with him at all times. Statues of lions and wolves stand in the garden; stone carvings of eagles spread their wings along the arch over every doorway. 

Tam emerges from the bedroom into the garden, thrusting himself weakly into the fresh air. 

He leans heavily on the lion statue guarding one side of the courtyard, grasping at its carved mane to keep himself upright. His head swims, vision dazzled by the noon-day sun and mind overwhelmed by his body's limitations. Beneath his hands, the stone of the statue feels uncommonly warm. 

The lion shakes its mane, dislodging Tam from his hold so that he startles and stumbles back. He falls, sprawling in the dirt so that he stares up at the statue, at the carving of a lion which has stepped off its plinth and is now looming over him. 

_'Rested enough already?'_ a voice asks, from within the confines of Tam's own skull. 

He yelps, scrambling back further, shuffling like a crab on his backside as he tries to get away. Human god-visitors are one thing; possessed statuary are entirely another. 

The lion advances, placing one heavy paw down in front of the other, advances until it has Tam backed up against the opposite wall of the courtyard. It pushes him down flat with one enormous paw dropped atop his shoulder. 

_'Let's clean you up, pet,'_ the voice says. 

The lion bows its head, nuzzling in between Tam's legs. He feels its nose nudge up against the underside of his cock. That isn't so bad; the warm puff of its breath is almost comforting. Then it gives him a lick, one broad, wet stroke with its scratchy, barbed cat tongue and Tam jerks hard, trying to pull his hips away. There's nowhere for him to go; the lion holds him down with its paw and continues to lick. 

_'None of that,'_ the voice says. _'A devotee of mine accepts his blessings, he does not cringe away like a sullen child.'_

Tam flashes hot, then just as quickly cold, mortified by the criticism. His only duty in life is to serve his god, to temper himself into whatever sort of person his god desires him to become. To disappoint the deity is unthinkable. Tam wills himself to hold still. 

The tongue-bath continues, with broad, determined swipes of lion tongue. It licks alternately up one side of his cock, then the other, sometimes darting low enough to drag its scratchy tongue over his balls as well, sometimes starting higher and swiping repeatedly over the head. Tam balls his hands into fists, digs his nails into what cracks he can find in the bricks beneath him. Despite himself, his cock begins to stiffen, growing full and hard beneath the god's attention.

He can hear the god laughing inside his head. _'Lovely boy,'_ he hears the god say with some affection. _'How young you are, and how quick to rise. You must truly worship me, my pet.'_

He gives Tam another lick. It hurts, but it's begun to feel good, too. The scratch of the barbs makes Tam's skin feel hot, sensitive. The entire length of his cock tingles. It arcs up from his belly, twitching once, as if asking for more. 

_'Shall I have my way with you again, sweet boy?'_

Tam doesn't know if he can stand it again, not from the man and certainly not from this stone monster come to life. Tam knows there is no way he can possibly refuse. He swallows, stares up into the lion-god's dark, animalistic eyes. 

_'Well? Shall I?'_

"I am yours," Tam whispers. "To be used however you please." 

_'What should I do with you, dear pet?'_ the god asks. _'Prove to me that your desire matches mine.'_

"P-Please," Tam stammers. "Use me." 

He stares down the length of the lion's body, eyes scanning for the heavy shaft hanging between powerful, feline legs. Even in the shadow of the god's borrowed body, Tam fancies he can see a prickling of barbs across the head, can see countless tiny hooks lining his god's flesh. 

He closes his eyes, breathes in slow and deep. "Fuck me. Claim me. Show me that I am yours and no one else's." 

The lion growls, the first sound that has come directly out of his throat rather than echoing solely inside Tam's skull. It growls and pushes him over, flipping Tam onto his belly in the dirt. He sucks in air, holding his breath, terrified of what will come next. He can feel the lion's hot breath against the back of his neck, moist and close. 

He hunches up, pulling his knees up closer to his chest and lifting his ass into the air. Making it easier. There is no oil this time, no preparation. The lion crouches over him; Tam can feel its heavy cock dragging up the back of his thigh, nudging against his ass, missing the angle and pushing up along the cleft of it rather than in. Tam breathes out, relieved in spite of himself. 

On the next attempt, the lion does not miss. 

It thrusts in, forcing Tam open. The girth of it burns, but it's the back-stroke Tam really feels. The barbs along its cock rake over his insides as it withdraws, each individual point of contact drawing its own excruciating line of fire. Before Tam can adjust, it's thrusting in again, and the process repeats. 

Tam buries his face in his arms, attempting to muffle his whimpering. He forces himself to hold as still as he can, not flinching away, not refusing his god. The lion moves more quickly than the god's human form; its pace is a brutal in-out, in-out, in, over and over and over, pistoning into Tam at breakneck speed. 

_'Tell me how it feels,'_ the god demands. 

Tam sobs, a long, rising sound that breaks off halfway through before resuming. He struggles to find his voice. The god hasn't slowed even a fraction, hasn't relented a hair in fucking Tam nearly in two. "I-I-It feels--" Tam stammers. "I f-feel, you feel--"

 _'Tell me it feels good,'_ the god prompts, low, persuasive. 

"You feel good," Tam whispers. 

_'Tell me you want more,'_ the god continues. 

"M-More," Tam manages to get out. Each breath in is a shaky wheeze, the air whistling as Tam sucks it past his teeth. "Please, more, please, please--!" 

The lion bites the back of Tam's neck, gently enough not to draw blood but still with enough force to pinch the skin. Tam gasps, and his hips jerk, and his cock shoots a long, thin stream of come across the dirt. The lion thrusts into him again, then out, and Tam's hips jerk again as the sensation forces another spurt of come out to spatter against the ground. 

_'Tell me not to stop,'_ the god commands. 

"Don't stop," Tam says immediately. "Please, please, don't stop." 

To his own rising horror, he finds he means it sincerely. There is a steadiness to the lion's brutal pace, a certainty to every snap of its feline hips, to every drag of its spines against Tam's insides on the way out. He hunches over his folded arms and takes it, head down, body passive and receptive. He remembers his evening meditations, long periods of emptying out all his thoughts so his head becomes light and clear, free of interference. 

The lion fucks him, on and on and on, and Tam's thoughts gradually quiet. His awareness narrows down to only the ache in his cock and the fire in his backside, to the sense of fullness brought when the lion thrusts inside him. He becomes a vessel, existing only to be filled, his sense of time dissolving as minutes seem to extend into hours, into eternities. 

He is surprised, when a tide of heat floods his insides. 

The lion's hips still, pressed tight against him, the weight of its body flattening him to the ground. The spell breaks, and Tam abruptly becomes aware of all of his other aches and pains, the abrasions on his arms from being rubbed raw against the brick, the stinging in his knees where they have likewise been scraped until they bleed, the throbbing at the back of his neck where the lion has bit him repeatedly. 

It pulls out, freeing its come to pour down Tam's sweaty thighs. It licks the back of Tam's neck, then the curve of his ass, then the space between his legs, dragging its tongue from the back of his balls, over his asshole, up along the cleft between his asscheeks. He feels sore and tender but also weak, too weak to even think of squirming away. He lets it happen. 

The lion pushes him over with one paw, rolling him from his belly onto his back. 

_'Hold onto me,'_ the god says, leaning its massive head down over Tam's chest. 

Tam reaches up and locks his arms around the lion's neck. It lifts him, half-dragging his body and walking over top of him, lifts him up and carries him inside. 

-

Cool water laps against Tam's chest and the cool stone at the edge of the bathing pool presses against his back. His vision slowly comes into focus, eyes staring up at the clear dome of glass high above his head. The sky he sees through it has been streaked orange and pink; golden light streams in through the room's western-facing windows. Tam doesn't remember what he was doing last. 

A hand takes him by the wrist, lifting his arm and rubbing a sponge gently over the cuts along its underside. Tam's gaze lowers from the ceiling, focusing instead on the bare, well-muscled chest of the man leaning over him. His god has returned again in human guise. 

"Was I..." Tam starts to say, groping for words. 

The god lets him fumble, continuing with his silent ministrations. He runs the fingertips of one hand over Tam's broken skin; his forearm tingles and the cut places begin to knit themselves back together. For a few moments it itches, like insects crawling about inside his skin. Then it's over and Tam feels nothing, just smooth skin and cool water. 

"Won't the priests be worried about me?" Tam wonders. "I haven't been to meals." 

"They are no concern," the god says. 

He reaches for Tam's other arm, sponges it clean of dirt and blood, and heals it, too. Tam watches him do it, amazed by the process. Such an effortless show of power. The god drops his hands into the water, curling his fingers around Tam's injured knees. They itch like his arms had done, grow warm beneath the god's touch. He slides his hands higher, up the insides of Tam's thighs, up until they brush the underside of Tam's softly bobbing cock. 

Tam freezes, like a gazelle caught in the gaze of a predator. His god trails one finger up the length of his shaft beneath the water and Tam finds himself leaning instinctively into the touch. 

"You're learning well, my pet." 

Tam shivers, but does not pull away. He makes himself look up, raising his chin so he's staring into the god's dark eyes. Strong arms reach under him, lifting him out of the water and setting him to sit on the edge of the pool. 

His god leans in, cupping his cheek with one hand, tilting up his chin. He's so close, too close, near enough that Tam can feel the subtle heat of his breath. He kisses Tam, more gently than he might have thought to expect. There comes a flicker of tongue, brief, fleeting. He doesn't move away. 

"Let's test your devotion to your god, sweet boy. Do you trust me?" 

Something wraps itself about Tam's left wrist, holding tight and pulling his arm sharply backward. A moment later, the same sort of something latches around the right one and drags that arm back to meet the first. They aren't the god's hands; Tam knows, because one palm is still cupped against his face. 

His god steps back. He stands knees-deep in the pool and Tam's eyes follow him, staring at the water where it laps about his god's thighs. Staring at the coils of water reaching out from the pool, like vines, like arms, tendrils that have wrapped around Tam's wrists and restrained him. 

Does he trust his god, the divine embodiment of justice and order? Does he have a choice? 

The god makes a vague motion with one hand and another tentacle of water extends from the pool, curling about Tam's right knee and pulling it to one side. Another takes ahold of his left knee, spreading his legs even further apart. The god leans forward, wrapping one hand about Tam's length and giving a single, firm stroke. He's hard almost before the man has let go of him. 

"Don't squirm," the god says. 

Tam jerks his head up and down, nodding his agreement. 

The next tendril of water is thinner, rising from the pool like a snake, like a curl of smoke. It twists in the air, reaching for Tam. The tip of it touches against the head of Tam's cock; he starts to lean his hips up into the contact but the tentacles around his knees hold him still. The tendril rears back, then plunges forward, pressing abruptly into Tam's slit. 

He gasps, a soft, strangled sound that he chokes back just as soon as he's made it. Though it appeared thin, the rod of water feels thicker inside Tam, stretching him open, pouring in deep. He starts to shift on the stone, uncomfortable and needing to get away, before he remembers -- don't squirm. 

Tam forces himself to hold still. He breathes in, and out, and in again as the tendril of water pushes in deeper still. Then he jerks, unable to stop himself. Something has brushed against his ass. 

He looks down, and swallows hard. 

There are two more tentacles of water, thicker than the one fucking its way into and out of his urethra. Their tips taper into gentle, probing cones, which are prodding experimentally at Tam's hole. He loses all sense for the god's warning; he thrashes, fighting to pull away, fighting against the bondage of ropes of water holding him in place. It isn't enough. First one tendril, then the other, pushes inside. 

"Behave, pet," the god says. 

Tam's thighs are shaking. He's shuddering with effort, at once trying to pull away and trying to hold still, balancing the demands of the god against the demands of his body. The god pats his cheek with one hand; the other reaches down between the man's own legs. His thumb presses against Tam's lip, pulling it gently downward. 

"I have a gift for you, sweet pet," he says. "If you accept it graciously, perhaps I will be gentle." 

The tendrils of water working their way into Tam twist and writhe, rubbing against his insides so that he jerks against his bondage. 

"If you do not," the god says. "I cannot promise you that kindness." 

"I'll be good," Tam agrees quickly. "I'll do anything you want." 

"Of course you will," the god says. 

He caresses Tam's cheek one more time, then reaches around him, curling his hand against the back of Tam's neck and pulling him forward. His cock presses against Tam's closed lips. He parts them, allowing his god to push the head of it into his mouth. He sucks gently, encouragingly, trying to show that he can be good. 

Liquid hits the back of Tam's throat with an unmistakeable, acrid taste on his tongue. He splutters, breathing in wrong and beginning to choke, fighting to pull back so he can get air. 

The hand on the back of Tam's neck tightens, clamping him in place. The flow of piss has stopped for the moment but the god's hips havent, pushing his cock deeper into Tam's mouth. He struggles to breathe around it, struggles with how its girth stretches his lips to painful tightness. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes. 

"Drink," the god says, so sternly that Tam does not dare to argue. "This, too, is part of your god. You should be grateful I choose to share myself with you." 

When the flow starts again, it's slower, and this time Tam knows to swallow. The taste is foul, bitter on his tongue, overwhelming all of his senses. His throat works repeatedly. The tentacles inside of him squirm and curl and Tam gasps, loosening the suction around the god's cock and allowing a thin stream of piss to trickle out the side of his mouth and down his chin. 

The god's response is to push his cock in yet deeper, pissing harder. More of it leaks out the corner of his mouth and slides down the side of his throat. He whimpers and sucks harder, swallows repeatedly, sucks until there's nothing left and the stream tapers off to a thin trickle, then nothing. 

"Keep going," the god says. "Show me how grateful you are for my gift." 

His hips move, thrusting gently into and out of Tam's mouth. Tam gets the idea. He sucks harder, bobbing his head forward and back so that his mouth slides over the god's shaft. It isn't too difficult -- at first. His cock is thick and heavy against Tam's tongue but not more than he can manage, if he works diligently at it. 

Then the god's hips begin to move faster. He fucks into Tam's mouth, holding him by the back of the neck and thrusting repeatedly against Tam's tongue. He stops trying to move, stops trying to suck. He can't breathe, can't think. His shoulders have begun to ache from the way his arms are wrenched backwards; his ass aches from how tightly his hole has been stuffed, filled once again after the previous abuse.

"This is your life's purpose -- pet--" the god grunts, in between the exertion of his thrusts. "To be used -- by me -- however I see fit. To submit to anything I do to you." 

He's growing stiffer in Tam's mouth, swelling to an even more improbable size. Tam gags, trying again to pull back but the god won't let him. He tangles his fingers in Tam's hair and gets a good grip, pulls his head back until he's at an angle where his god can thrust directly into his throat. 

"You are mine," the god says. "To break in any way that I choose." 

He jerks his hips back again, pulling away all at once and leaving Tam's mouth free. Tam gasps, sucking in a lungful of air before he begins coughing, coughing so hard his body shakes in the hold of his restraints. He sucks in air again, breathing hard, trying to calm down. 

"Ask me not to fuck you," the god says. 

Tam's eyes snap open wider, his face stricken with horror. He's already got the water tentacles inside of him, has already been taken by the god twice in the span of a day. He can't do it again; he's certain his body cannot endure it. 

"You can't," Tam whispers. "Please. It's too much." 

The god strokes Tam's cheek, pets his hair. He leans in to kiss Tam once on the forehead, tenderly, like a parent might. When he speaks next, his voice is almost gentle, asking, "Are you afraid that I will hurt you?" 

Tam nods his head weakly, shamefaced. "Please take it out of me. It hurts." 

"These?" the god asks. One hand reaches down, thrusting two fingers into Tam's stretched-open asshole, fitting them in around the tentacles. 

Tam sucks in air, wincing at the way the god's fingers drag against his oversensitive insides. "Please." 

"You forget," the god says, so softly, stroking Tam's hair with his free hand even while he pulls the other's fingers out of Tam's ass. "I'll have you whether you care for it or not." 

And with that he thrusts in, shoving his cock into Tam alongside both still-writhing tentacles. Tam screams, the abrupt stretch of one more intrusion proving too much for him to endure silently. He screams, but the god doesn't stop, building up to the same brutal, swift pace Tam is rapidly growing used to. He is the god's future bride; he exists only to be used. This was true from the moment the god first appeared before him and is true in the current moment of overwhelming pain and fullness. It will be true forever more, as his god enjoys his body again and again, never tiring of the beautiful, obedient toy who has been taught to submit to his every desire. 

-


End file.
